Common Cold Won't Keep Me Down
by hestia-jones85
Summary: Just another day with the Marauders, and thankfully without cliches.


James sat up and coughed till his lungs hurt.

"You okay, mate?" asked Sirius.

James shook his head. "Don't worry. I'm fine."

Sirius looked skeptically at him, but didn't pursue the subject. Peter, who had a Gryffindor banner wrapped around him, looked worried, but like Sirius, he didn't say anything.

"Look, James, you're really not well," shouted Remus from the bed next to James's. "The Pepper-Up Potion is not working, and Madam Pomfrey thinks you shouldn't leave this room."

James shoved his fist into his mouth as he started coughing again.

"You shouldn't have been out last night," said Remus morosely. "There was no need for you to come." He sat up and glared at Sirius. "I told you all not to come."

Sirius had the grace to look ashamed, but Peter spoke up. "It's not Sirius' fault. It's not like he forced us to go or something."

"All of you – SHUT UP!" shouted James.

His three friends stared at him – he had never lost his temper like that before.

"Remus, we came because we knew how tough your transformation can get for you, so whether you like it or not, whether I've cold or not, we're always going to be there, all right? So, just shut up!"

James flopped down on the bed as soon as he'd finished his speech; it seemed to have robbed him of energy. Concerned, Sirius went to his side and ran his palm over his friend's forehead, but James pushed his hand away and sat up again. "I've got to go," he said urgently.

"No way!" cried Sirius. "You can't go out, James, you're seriously ill."

"I don't care!" snapped James. "I've got to play! We're going to lose to Slytherin if I don't play."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Of course, without star Chaser Potter, Gryffindor can't-"

"Sod off, Padfoot!" said James angrily. He was clearly not in the mood for jokes. "Garner's a good reserve, but he's not confident enough to take on Slytherin. Besides, I'm the Captain too, remember? I can't back out of the match now."

He jumped out of the bed and held out his hands. "Wormtail, hand me my Quidditch robes."

"Are you sure you're strong enough to play, James?" asked Peter doubtfully.

"Merlin! Why's everyone so infuriating today? I've an effing cold, that's all. _Accio robes!_"

The Quidditch robes flew out of Peter's bag and James caught them effortlessly. "Right! I'm going down to the pitch. Anyone coming?"

"Your broom, James," said Sirius.

"Blast!" muttered James angrily. "Neither of you thought of bringing it?"

"It's waiting for you, just outside the Hospital Wing," replied Peter, smiling.

James couldn't help but smile back at him. "You knew I'd play anyway."

Then, as three of them made to leave, James looked back at Remus. "I'll be back soon, mate."

Remus hesitated, but he grinned and gave James a thumbs-up.

***

James led his team on to the pitch. His throat was starting to itch madly again, willing him to give in. However, he knew that if he displayed his terrible coughing fits on display, McGonagall would whisk him off to the Hospital Wing faster than he could say "Quidditch."

In an effort to fight the itch in his throat, he concentrated on the crowd that had gathered to watch the match. It was fairly huge. Of course it was – this was the final match of the year, after all. James wouldn't have missed it for a stupid cough. If they won, then it would be his first Cup as a Captain.

The Slytherin team was already waiting with Madam Hooch. James strode confidently up to them, all the time hoping to Merlin that he didn't start coughing. Madam Hooch nodded at him and his team, and they stopped walking, facing the Slytherins.

"Potter, Walcott," said Madam Hooch in a firm tone, "All I ask for is a fair, clean game. You believe your team can give me that?"

"Yes, Ma'am," shouted James and Armada at the same time.

"Good! Shake hands, then."

James shook Armada Walcott's hand, and gave her a smile. She blushed a little, although her lips were tightly pursed. James smiled again. _Slytherins! Trust them to take offence, even when you don't mean to give them any._

Madam Hooch released the balls, and the game started.

***

James moved in a blur, and the Quaffle shot through the hoop once more.

The stadium went into a frenzy, and James couldn't help but feel elated. He had scored at least six times in the last thirty minutes, and his team was in the lead.

And then, everything went wrong.

His throat started itching madly, and he couldn't stand it anymore.

James felt as if his lungs were going to burst out of his rib cage. He was coughing so hard. The next instant, Urquhart, one of the Slytherin Beaters, sent a Bludger spinning towards him. James tugged at his broom and swerved to the right, but the Bludger still managed to hit his left elbow. The pain sent a series of shockwaves through his left arm, and he only slightly registered his Beater, Peakes, taking revenge by sending the Bludger flying right back at Urquhart.

With his left arm going limp, he had to use only his right hand to hold his broom steady. Still, he didn't call for a time out.

To his dismay, Madam Hooch did.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" she shrieked as she checked his temperature. "You belong to the Wing."

James shook his head dismissively. "I've scored six times in spite of it. I'm not giving up now, Ma'am." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw McGonagall entering the pitch. "Please, Madam Hooch," he said, "please let me play."

"But your arm, Potter," began the referee.

"My arm's fine," protested James quickly, fearing that McGonagall was going to take him out of the match. "I can score as well with my right arm."

"Are you sure?" asked Madam Hooch.

"Yes," said James evenly.

"All right, then," said Madam Hooch.

***

Twenty minutes later, James was still reeling from the pain.

He had lied; his right arm was not as skilled in handling a Quaffle, and he had not secured a single score since he got hurt. It was frustrating, having the Quaffle in his hands and not being able to shoot it through the hoops. It wasn't a feeling he was used to.

And his team was suffering.

Therefore, James decided to let go – he wouldn't score anymore. He would concentrate on helping his Chasers do the needful.

So, he flew around, diving and dodging and swerving and looping, and every time he had the Quaffle in his hand, he handed it over to whichever Gryffindor Chaser was nearer the goal-post. His teammates understood the strategy soon enough, and Gryffindor was rising yet again.

Another twenty minutes later, James saw Slytherin Seeker Regulus Black flying determinedly towards the other end of the pitch with the Gryffindor Seeker in hot pursuit. James felt as if the world was drawing to a close. Gryffindor was only 150 points ahead, so if Regulus got the Snitch, then they would tie. True that even Slytherins wouldn't normally want to share anything with the Gryffindors, but they knew their Chasers were never going to keep up.

James didn't know if his Seeker would be able to beat Regulus to it – Regulus was too good anyway. Everyone was looking at the Seekers, even the Beaters had gone off in that direction, and James realized what needed to be done. He shot off towards Bailey who currently had the Quaffle. The Slytherin Chaser was caught off-guard, no doubt he too had been preoccupied with the Seekers, and he promptly dropped the Quaffle, and James caught it. He signaled at his two fellow Chasers, but they weren't paying him attention.

In dismay, James flew off for the goal-post himself. He tried to move his left hand, but it wouldn't budge. He had no choice but to use his right hand. Walcott was waiting for him, her smirk evident even from a distance. James concentrated on her face, and flung the Quaffle with all his might.

The Quaffle flew gloriously through the hoop.

A disbelieving James and a horrified Walcott was still staring at the hoop when Regulus Black caught the Snitch three seconds later and ended the game.

Gryffindor won the final match, and James proudly lifted the Cup.

***

James prodded Remus awake.

"Wha- James?" said a bleary eyed Remus.

"The very same."

James sat down on his own bed, rubbing the cast on his left arm.

"What happened? Did we win?" asked Remus anxiously. "No-wait, don't say anything. That huge grin can't mean anything else."

James laughed, and Remus whooped.

"Where's everyone else?" asked Remus.

"Common room," said James. "They're still celebrating. Then, McGonagall came and told me off for escaping from the Hospital Wing, but she was grinning all the same."

Remus chuckled. "So, you had no choice but to leave the party."

James nodded. "Don't worry," he said with a wink, "We're continuing as soon as we get out."

***********

I had cold and coughing fits, and I'd to write a drabble on James for an assignment, and voila!

DISCLAIMER: I am not J.. Although everything you can recognize belongs to her.


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